Day after day dragged on, night after night, and then the weary weeks.

What had become of him?
Had he been murdered?
Had he fallen into the docks?
Had he--deserted her?
No! She could not believe that; he was too brave and tender and true.

She couldn't believe that.
He was dead, dead, or he'd come back to her.
Meanwhile the landlord of the lodging-house turned Kitty into the streets, now that "her man" was gone, and the payment of the rent doubtful.

She got a place as a servant.

The family she lived with shortly moved to Boston, and she accompanied them; then they went abroad, but Kitty would not leave America.